


To An Amazing Big Brother

by KitKatWinchester



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Loves Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Dean Winchester is a Good Older Brother, Gen, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is a Good Little Brother, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitKatWinchester/pseuds/KitKatWinchester
Summary: Dean's a little upset about not really celebrating his thirteenth birthday, and Sam is the best little brother and makes sure he doesn't have to be.
Relationships: Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 153





	To An Amazing Big Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I know I'm posting this a little late, but happy birthday Dean Winchester!! This story idea just popped into my head thinking about Dean's birthday, so I decided to write it. I couldn't get it finished until now, but I'm posting it anyways! :)  
> Hope you all enjoy!

It shouldn’t be a big deal.  
  
Really, it _wasn’t_ a big deal. They’d never done much in the way of birthday celebrations before. No reason to start now.  
  
So why did this one feel different?  
  
Maybe it was because he was turning 13. _The big teen_. But that couldn’t really be that big of a deal. 13 was just a number. 

Besides, Sam had been sick yesterday, and his dad was still on that hunt. Dean knew he had to make sure Sam was taken care of and feeling okay. He couldn’t be worried about some stupid birthday. _It would be nice if Dad were here though,_ he thought absently.  
  
He knocked on the bedroom door softly before pushing the door open.  
  
“Sammy?” he called, poking his head in. Sam was curled up in bed, but he stirred when he heard his name, turning to face the doorway.  
  
“Dean?” he asked, shifting to sit up in bed.  
  
“Whoa, careful. You had a rough fever yesterday,” Dean said, fully entering the room. “How ya feeling?” Sam sat up a little slower, seeming to take stock of himself, before smiling at Dean.  
  
“Better.”  
  
“Good,” Dean said, opening the door again. “There’s breakfast on the table, if you wanna get that lazy ass out of bed.” He could feel the eye roll even as he turned away, but that had to mean his brother was feeling better, so Dean sighed a little in relief. _One less thing to worry about._

By the time Sam had made it to the table, Dean was sliding eggs onto his plate, glass of milk already poured.  
  
“Sorry, no bacon,” he said, clearly irritated by that. “Dad said we couldn’t get any.” He rolled his eyes, but Sam just shrugged--he had never had the same obsession with bacon that his brother did.  
  
“It’s okay,” he said, grabbing his fork and diving into the eggs. “Thank you for making me breakfast. You didn’t have to.” Dean just shrugged, cracking two more eggs into the pan.  
  
“It’s what I do,” he said as he continued cooking. “I should probably go across the street to that drugstore after breakfast. We need something for dinner. You gonna be good if I leave you here alone?” Sam nodded, enthusiastically chewing his eggs. Dean kept looking at him though, as if being sure.  
  
“I’m better, Dean. Really.” Sam said, trying to reassure him. He didn’t need his brother to continue worrying about him, especially today.  
  
“Alright, if you’re sure,” Dean said, finishing the eggs and sliding them onto his own plate before depositing the pan in the small sink and quickly scarfing down the eggs.  
  
Several minutes later, Dean was making his way towards the door.  
  
“I’m gonna bring our cell, so you can call me with the motel phone if you need anything. You remember the number, right?” Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that.  
  
“Yes, Dean, I remember the number. I’m not an idiot. Just go.” Dean scoffed a little, but eventually left, albeit begrudgingly.  
  
_Thank God,_ Sam thought. _Time to get to work._

Hiding the birthday stuff from Dean hadn’t been easy, especially not once he got sick. That really put a damper on his plans. He was just glad he had had the foresight to hide the gifts in the back of that closet two days before, or Dean definitely would’ve found them while he was dealing with his bed-ridden self.  
  
He reached into the far corner and pulled out the bag. There wasn’t much in it, mostly small things he’d managed to trade his own few items for--a couple of Dean’s favorite candy bars and a red Hot Wheel model he’d once said looked cool. There was one bigger present, though, that Bobby had helped him put together. A small photo album with pictures of him and his brother whenever they were at Bobby’s house. Bobby was in some of them, but he was usually the one behind the camera.  
  
It seemed simple, but Bobby assured him that it held a lot of meaning. He wasn’t sure if Dean was even going to like it, but Bobby claimed that, even if he didn’t show it, Dean would appreciate it. Looking at it now, Sam actually believed him. 

Sam got to work, wrapping the presents in the newspapers he’d foraged at their previous motel. He wrapped the photo album last, scrawling a quick message on the inside cover before wrapping it up.  
  
Just as he was shoving the finished presents under his bed, he heard the motel door open.  
  
“Sam?”  
  
“In here!” he called back, standing up to make his way out of the bedroom. Dean was walking in with a small bag in his hand.  
  
“Mac and cheese for lunch,” he said, pulling a box out of the bag. “And probably also for dinner,” he continued, pulling out two more boxes. “Slim pickings at that dumb store.”  
  
“Mac and cheese is good,” Sam said, smiling. Dean turned to him, raising an eyebrow.   
  
“Really? ‘Cause two days ago you told me you never wanna eat mac and cheese again.” Sam stared at him for a second--he'd forgotten he’d said that--not sure how to respond. Did he really want mac and cheese? No. Did he wanna cause his brother any trouble on his birthday? Definitely not. Eventually, Sam decided on a simple shrug, turning away to sit on the couch and flick on the motel television.  
  
Dean, meanwhile, watched him suspiciously. Even for a recently-sick Sam, this attitude was way too good-natured. He finished putting the mac and cheese away before joining his brother in the living room. He’d turned on some stupid cartoon that he likes to watch--Dean had never been a fan.

“Ugh. This dumb show again?” Sam shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, then picked up the remote and handed it his way.

“Here. You can change the channel if you want.” Dean stared at him, mouth open slightly in surprise. The usual reaction to a comment like that was an eye roll and some form of “you can watch whatever TV show you want after I go to bed.” And now he was offering to let him change the channel. Nuh-uh. Never in a million years.

“What did you do to the remote?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Sam looked at him, confusion in his eyes.

“What do you mean? I didn’t do anything to it.” Dean narrowed his eyes even more, and Sam put up his hands, remote still in hand, in mock surrender. “I swear!”

“Oh right, so you’re just letting me change the channel out of the goodness of your heart,” Dean sassed, still eyeing him suspiciously. Sam just shrugged in response before offering him the remote again. When Dean still didn’t take it, he sighed, leaning back on the couch again.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said, and he started flicking through the channels. Almost immediately--and to Sam’s happy surprise--Scooby-Doo popped up on the screen, and he stopped, setting the remote back down next to him. Dean loved Scooby-Doo, and they didn’t get to see it very often.

Dean gave him a side-eye almost immediately, and Sam knew it was because he rarely willing watched Scooby-Doo. He liked the occasional episode here and then, but it wasn’t his favorite. Despite that, he was determined to keep it on for his brother.

The day continued like that, Sam being way too forgiving and soft and Dean being very suspicious and confused. He helped make lunch, let Dean pick their games and activities, and even offered to make dinner.

Some small part of Dean reminded himself that it was his birthday, but Sam had never made this kind of gesture before, and he hadn’t mentioned the birthday at all, so it seemed unrelated, which only increased his suspicions.

As Sam set the plate of fresh mac and cheese in front of him, he watched him walk back to the pot to serve himself before speaking up.

“Why’re you’re doin’ all this, Sam?” he asked, but he only got the same shrug he’d been getting all day.

“Why not?” he said simply, coming to join him at the table, smiling lightly. He then proceeded to dive into his mac and cheese before he looked up at Dean again. “Oh, by the way, you should take the bed tonight. I’ll sleep in here. It’s super comfortable and I know you slept on the couch since I was sick. Only fair I let you take it tonight.”

Sam knew Dean had a nervous habit of checking under his bed. After finding out what their dad really does, he doesn’t blame him. Now, when he checked tonight, he’d see the presents. Assuming he managed to convince him to sleep in there, that is.

“Sammy come on...” he said, putting his fork down. “You’re just feeling better. You should still get the bed.”

“No no, I’m serious,” Sam responded. “I feel a lot better. And besides, it’ll probably be nice and cool out here. It was hot in the bedroom last night.” Dean stared at him, trying to find the ulterior motive, but so far, none of Sam’s favors had turned sour.

He really couldn’t figure it out.

“Alright I guess,” he said, slowly, staring back down at his bowl before eventually picking his fork back up as they finished dinner.

That night, after making sure his brother was sure he’d be comfortable on the couch, Dean did his routine room check. Everything seemed fine, but when he did a quick look under the bed, he had a double take, quickly bending back down to investigate.

“Sam?” he called, pulling out things that appeared to be wrapped in newspaper, looking down at them. “What is this?”

When he looked up, his brother was standing in the doorway, something in his hand.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” he said, big grin on his face. He then looked down sheepishly at the item in his hand. “I, uh, couldn’t get a real pie, but I thought making this one might still count for something.” Dean looked closer, then, and realized that Sam had somehow managed to make a makeshift pie and candle out of paper. The candle wasn’t lit—probably a smart choice, given its material—but the design was...oddly endearing. He stared at him for a second, not sure if he was processing correctly.

“All your favors and nice gestures...that was for my birthday?” he asked, eventually.

“Well, yeah,” Sam said, walking fully into the room. “I’m kinda surprised you didn’t figure it out, given your ego.” His eyes twinkled a little, and Dean rolled his eyes, but there was a smile hidden behind it.

“And these...” he started, turning back to the presents. “You got them? For me?” Sam started squirming a little, seeming nervous and embarrassed.

“Most of ‘em, yeah. Uncle Bobby helped a little.” He finally realized his nervous tick and stopped himself, sitting down on the floor and crossing his legs. Dean smirked a little at the behavior--he wished Sam could be that kind of kid forever. He adjusted his seated position to get more comfortable before picking up a square-shaped present.

“Actually,” Sam said, causing Dean to look up at him. “Maybe, uh, open that one last.” Dean raised an eyebrow, but obliged, turning to the other two presents. He ripped open the paper on both at once, allowing both gifts to be visible.

“Butterfinger and Reese’s! My favorites!” Dean then balked a little at the second gift. “That new Hot Wheel car? How did you get ahold of this?” Sam’s smile grew a little.

“Traded an old book.” Dean looks at him for a second, slight bafflement.

“Really? You traded one of your books for this?” Sam nodded, shrugging it off, but Dean knew how much Sam cherished his books.

“Thank you, Sam. Really. You didn’t have to do that.” Sam shrugged again, looking down a little sheepishly.

“There’s one more,” he murmured, looking up again. Dean turned around to grab the final present, ripping the paper off again. He couldn’t tell what it was right away, but when he opened it, it didn’t take long.

The first thing he saw was a picture of him and Sam. It looked like it was taken several years ago--Sam looked so much younger. When he looked closer, he saw the year “1989” written in the corner. _Barely three years, and Sam had grown up so much,_ he thought. He didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, though, as his gaze shifted to the opposite page.

A message, scrawled in Sam’s--not surprisingly--neat handwriting.

_To an amazing big brother,_

_Thanks for always being there for me. I know I can always count on you._

_~ Sam_

He stared at the note for a minute, re-reading it a few times to make sure he had read it correctly before looking back at his brother. Sam wasn’t looking at him, suddenly seeming pre-occupied by a thread on his jeans.

“This is...” Dean started, before stopping himself, not sure what he wanted to say. Eventually, he went for something simple.

“Thanks Sam. This is, uh...this is great. I really love it.” He saw Sam perk up a little bit at that, finally turning his head to lock eyes with him.

“Really?” he asked, tone hopeful.

“Really.” Dean said, a small smile making its way onto his lips.

“Good,” Sam then said, smiling back. After several seconds of sitting there, Sam turned to his side and picked up the “birthday pie.”

“Make a wish?” he suggested, holding it out to Dean. Dean’s smile grew a little, and he leaned closer, blowing across the candle and directly into Sam’s face, which made Sam scrunch his nose up in reaction, but it quickly turned into a laugh. The laugh only grew as Dean joined in, and they laughed until they were too tired to sit up straight, slowly making their way up to the bed, both of them squeezed in next to each other.

And if Dean kept that photo album somewhere close at all times--no matter where the hunts took them--for the next twenty-eight years, no one could really blame him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! I'll admit, it's not my proudest work, and it took some convincing from a friend for me to still post it, but I do really like some aspects of it, so don't be afraid to tell me what you think!  
> Please send me prompts! I always love having new ideas to inspire my writing!  
> Thanks for reading!


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